


Oh our hearts are unafraid

by Perching_Owl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Car Accidents, M/M, Rain, Shooting, Whump, Whumptober 2020, wound reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perching_Owl/pseuds/Perching_Owl
Summary: Rain is pounding against the building, the wind pressing it further against the windows, a constant background noise. Already the streets have emptied, no one wanting to go out in this storm of the century and even the most hardened fools have stayed at home.Lestrade glances at his phone, but the message he has been waiting for has not yet arrived.'Waiting for someone, Sir?' Sally's voice rings out, a smile on her face as she flips through a thin folder before putting it down.'Yes, Mycroft wanted to get me as soon as he finished,' Lestrade puts his phone down on the table. He smiles at her. 'We actually wanted to drive out to his mother's home. But right now I believe we should stay in London.' With a sigh, he adds, 'Who would have thought to put storm of the century on your 2020 bingo card?'
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62
Collections: Perching_Owl's Whumptober 2020 Collection





	Oh our hearts are unafraid

**Author's Note:**

> 27th fill for the [whumptober 2020](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/)! Mystrade Angst - pure and simple. Well, it’s my first fic for the Sherlock fandom and I’m excited. Thanks to [Nantai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nantai/pseuds/Nantai) this one is beta-read!
> 
> No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?: Earthquake | **Extreme Weather** | Power Outage 
> 
> Here is the [ Link](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated) for the upcoming prompts.
> 
> Title is taken from 'Never Surrender' by Liv Ash.

Rain is pounding against the building, the wind pressing it further against the windows, a constant background noise. Already the streets have emptied, no one wanting to go out in this storm of the century and even the most hardened fools have stayed at home.

Lestrade leans back in his chair, staring outside, into the dark night. Droplets of water form rivers running down the glass, a mesmerising display. He follows one of them with his eyes, his mind drifting until he shakes his head, pulling himself from his thoughts.

He glances at his phone, but the message he has been waiting for has not yet arrived.

'Waiting for someone, Sir?' Sally's voice rings out, a smile on her face as she flips through a thin folder before putting it down.

'Yes, Mycroft wanted to get me as soon as he finished,' Lestrade puts his phone down on the table. He smiles at her. 'We actually wanted to drive out to his mother's home. But right now I believe we should stay in London.' With a sigh, he adds, 'Who would have thought to put storm of the century on your 2020 bingo card?'

'Better than COVID - and lasting not as long,' Sally responds, tapping her pen against the folder.

'Let's hope so,' Lestrade grins. He opens his mouth, but his phone dings with a message.

'Looks like your boyfriend is here,’ a small smile plays around Sally’s lips. Glancing at the folders around her, she adds, ‘Go on, I can wrap this up.'

'We could drop you off,' Lestrade offers as he gets up, pulling his coat on.

'Nah, I’ll just take the boat home,' Sally waves him off, 'and now off with you. Have a nice weekend.'

'You as well - and get home safely,' Lestrade grins at her, then makes his way down, a spring to his step. He has been looking forward to spending a weekend with Mycroft. If it is in these conditions, so be it. 

Even on the staircase, Lestrade can hear the rain, loud and constant, and as he looks out from the foyer, the spring in his step vanishes. It’s going to be a fucking nightmare just running towards the car. He will be drenched in moments. Outside the rain is cold. The wind is blowing it against his face and he dashes over to where he knows Mycroft will be waiting, parking somewhat illegally directly in front of the yard.

Indeed his partner is already there - by the car that is, not in, with an umbrella in his hand.

Lestrade hurries over to him, water splashing as he runs over the plaza in front of New Scotland Yard, immediately drenching his feet from the ice-cold puddles along with the hem of his trousers. The shoulders of his coat are also wet, quickly becoming soaked. With a curse, he rescues himself underneath Mycroft's umbrella. Despite the shit weather, a grin has broken out on his face.

'Why would you wait outside, you utter madman?' Lestrade asks, leaning forward and capturing Mycroft's lips with his. With a wet hand, he grasps Mycroft's waistcoat and pulls him into the kiss. It is supposed to be a quick kiss, but Mycroft responds in kind, kissing back with passion.

After a moment of getting lost in each other, the downpour drives them apart, water dripping from the umbrella into the back of his shirt and Lestrade shivers, pulling away.

'To come back to your question, I only thought it was polite,' Mycroft responds, smile on his face, his cheeks and lips reddened. He adjusts his tie with one hand, the other still holding the umbrella. 'Besides, this way, I can hold open the door for you and ensure you get less rainwater on those leather seats.’

Taking advantage of the offer, Lestrade grins as he slips into the warm car. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sits down in the comfortable seat. It's warm and dry and he leans back after he has put on the seatbelt, closing his eyes and enjoying the quiet for a moment. A few breaths later, Mycroft slips into the driver seat. He turns, putting the umbrella he had been carrying in the foot room of the back row. Only then he turns towards the front, turning on the engine.

Lestrade looks over at his partner, a smile on his face, 'Are we still visiting your parents?'

Mycroft nods, 'I spoke with mother. She is still expecting us.'

'Do you think the roads are good to go? It's been raining for hours. Besides, it's night.'

'It's alright, Gregory,' Mycroft grins at that, 'I'm an excellent driver.'

'Oh, I don't doubt you, just the weather,' Lestrade smiles. 'Never would dream of doubting you.'

Mycroft raises an eyebrow, 'I have a feeling, you are teasing me.' There is a smile playing around the corners of his mouth though and it lacks any bite.

'I wouldn’t even dream of it,' Lestrade responds, 'How was your day? Did you at least let Anthea off early?'

'Of course,' Mycroft responds. 'But it's been a rather normal day, nothing pressing.'

'No assassinations planned today?' Lestrade asks, a teasing smile on his face to which Mycroft rolls his eyes. He is warming up inside the car, the warmth making him sleepy, especially after the day he has had. He is grateful for the heating though as there aren’t any more shivers running through him.

'None that I am aware of,' Mycroft responds, taking a turn which leads south and over the Thames.

Lestrade doesn't even realise when he drifts off, the rain a constant against the car, the soft classical music drifting over him and Mycroft's excellent driving. He knows, he wakes up, dozes off again, and Mycroft at one point pads him on the knee, when Lestrade startles at a corner on a winding backroad through the countryside.

'Sleep Gregory, it's alright,' Mycroft's voice drifts over him.

Lestrade turns towards him, drowsy, 'Alright, but it can't be long anymore, can it?'

He wants to add more, to ask where they are, but suddenly there is a push against the car, from behind. Mycroft's right hand immediately tightens on the wheel, his left hand flying to the gearbox. Another hit and Lestrade turns around, seeing another car close to them. It’s at least a jeep if not a hummer. It pushes against them.

Lestrade swears.

Again the other car drives into them and this time it's much worse. Mycroft loses control of the car on the slippery road, tries to hold it on the road. He has it almost back, but they are running out of room before the next corner, and their car leaves the road. Lestrade grunts, then they slam into the ditch. The airbag deploys, the chemical stench making Lestrade almost gag.

His breath is knocked from him, he squeezes his eyes shut, and then they come to a standstill, the car still revving. Lestrade looks to his right at once, his heart racing. Is Mycroft alright? Fear has instantly evaporated any sleepiness he has felt earlier, bringing him back to being fully aware of what is going on.

Next to him, Mycroft is already shaking the effects of the car crash off. His hand presses against a button against the dashboard, his face set in a firm line.

'Are you injured?' Mycroft asks, voice ice-cold. Lestrade knows it's not directed at him, the precision and distance necessary for Mycroft to work out what has been happening.

'Yes, just shaken,' Lestrade responds. 'Do you-'

'We need to get out of here, there are two guns in the glove compartment - could you pass me one?'

Lestrade knows his heart is beating faster. Perhaps he should question Mycroft at some point as to why there are two guns in the glove compartment. 

Now is not the time though. 

He pushes the airbag aside, his hands shaking as he reaches for the glove box and opens it. Passing one gun to Mycroft, he takes the other. They don't need to exchange any more words. He knows whoever has pushed them off the road is going to come back and finish the job.

Mycroft gets out at his side, and Lestrade follows. He knows how to handle a gun, had been an armed officer for a time and then renewed his weapon's training when Mycroft and he had become steady as Anthea had been adamant at refreshing that knowledge. She had taught him a few tricks as well. It had always been more of a last resort, and he had never expected to use that knowledge.

Looking around, he doesn't see where the jeep has stopped, but he holds the gun close, remembering not to hold it as high in front of him like police school had taught him, instead keeping it closer to his body so it cannot be knocked away. .

It takes mere seconds for the rain to drench him. It's dark outside, the storm in full force, and they only have the lights of the car, which are still on. Lestrade begins to move around it towards Mycroft, who has his own gun drawn and is looking around in the rain, clearly searching for something on the ground. Tire tracks perhaps? With it raining like sheets, they can barely see for more than a few feet.

Lestrade steps close to him, shivering in the cold of the rain. His shirt, after his coat, has to be soaked now as well, rainwater running down his neck, drenching him in coldness.

'Do you see them?' Lestrade screams over the storm.

Mycroft shakes his head. He opens his mouth to say something, a response ready, a frown on his face.

Lestrade is not listening to him though.

For a brief moment, he has frozen, rooted to the spot. Over Mycroft's shoulders, he has spotted something in the rain. Is it metal or lights? Either way- he begins to run before he has even processed what he is seeing.

Mycroft whirls around, alarmed and brings up his gun. A shot rings out, loud over the rain, and Lestrade crashes into Mycroft, pulling him down. His knees connect with ground below, the fabric tearing as Lestrade slides to a stop. Below his skin is torn open.

Another shot cuts through the rain, loud and deafening. It’s always a surprise for Lestrade. He has been trained, yet he has never got used to the sound of a gunshot.

He brings his gun up, aims it in the dark, but Mycroft is quicker, two shots, fired in quick succession and Lestrade can see someone falling down. He moves to stand from where he is kneeling, gun at the ready. Suddenly he doesn't have any strength anymore, instead he sinks further to the wet ground. Immediately the legs of his trousers are drenched, but he cannot move, every bone in his body heavy, as if lacking any life or will. Perhaps he had been more tired than usual and this excitement had not been helping.

He opens his mouth to say something as Mycroft stands, moving towards their assailant and ensuring the man is not a threat anymore. In the rain, the silhouette Mycroft cuts is tantalising, a dangerous gentleman on a mission, even though his clothes are drenched. Always one for the drama, Lestrade thinks, fondness in his heart. Seeing him, leaving like this always makes Lestrade want to watch him, but he finds himself short of breath. It's distracting.

A frown appears on his face as he looks down on himself. His eyes widen. Blood spreading over his shirt, turning it from white to red around his stomach area, just below his ribs.

Oh.

It's strange how gunshots don't hurt, he thinks at the same time as it dully begins to throb, then turns into molten lava inside of him.

Oh.

Must have been the shock.

He falls backwards then, like a puppet, whose strings had been cut, hitting the wet ground. The coldness spreading over his back is in sharp contrast to the warmth spreading over from his stomach. Rain falls down on him, hitting his face, and he realises, he has never seen rain from this perspective. It's beautiful, the drops coming from the dark sky above, hitting him, cold droplets splashing over his face. It almost feels tranquil.

Footsteps are coming closer, dress shoes on the asphalt road, and Lestrade wants to turn towards them. Mycroft sinks down beside him, heedless of the mud getting on his three-piece-suit. His eyes are wide, 'Greg.'

He doesn't say anything else, his eyes falling on the wound on Lestrade's stomach. His eyes widen, filling with tears for a brief moment - or is that rain? - and he shrugs out of his jacket, balls it into a ball and presses it against the wound.

The pressure hurts, causing Lestrade to groan.

'My apologies Greg, but we have to stem the bleeding - do you know if it went through?'

Lestrade frown, 'No.' His voice is hoarse, raspy. 'I don't know. It hurts,' he adds. There is still surprise in his tone.

'I know,' Mycroft mutters, his eyes wide, 'I know - it's going to be fine though. The ambulance will surely be here soon.'

'The rain-,' he grimaces, 'they will be delayed.'

'No, they won't.'

Lestrade shakes his head. By now he is shivering. He doesn't know if that is from the cold or if that is because of the blood he is losing. The blood is warm though, as it drips from the wound, running down over his side. He knows he needs blood soon, needs an ambulance soon, a hospital.

'It's a storm - it will take them ages to get out here,' Lestrade responds.

'Don't be silly, reinforcement will be here soon. They will have called in an ambulance as well,' Mycroft's voice tries to project confidence, an assurance everything is going to be fine, but Lestrade can hear the tremble, the fear and he can see the shaking hands.

He reaches out, a movement, which pulls at the wound, but he manages to put one hand over Mycroft's. They are cold, slippery with wetness, either blood or rain. At this point, he isn't sure anymore. He feels Mycroft's hand in his, squeezes it and for a moment he thinks what he should say.

He doesn't want to argue with Mycroft. Instead, he takes in Mycroft’s white shirt, which is soaked through, his waistcoat, which has splashes of mud and blood on it, his face, which is ashen and wet from the rain. A raindrop slips over his cheek, almost like a tear. Lestrade wants to reach out and brush it away.

His body is so heavy though, and Lestrade exhales, still squeezing Mycroft's hands. Mycroft's eyes widen, and his mouth forms words, but Lestrade doesn't hear it, doesn't even hear the rain pounding on the asphalt anymore. Darkness threatens to overwhelm him, and for one last long moment he holds on, wanting to sear Mycroft's face into his mind.

And for the briefest of moments, he imagines blue lighting illuminating Mycroft's face as if from an ambulance, but that has to be wishful thinking?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and constructive criticism appreciated :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
